Stuffed And Basted

Amber smiled as she heard her son's girlfriend and his friend both bust out into laughter again, while her son groaned. They were enjoying all his childhood pictures, even if Caleb wasn't.

It was a time-honored tradition in the family. She'd experienced it herself, and her mother had explained that it was how she got through all the times when Amber was being rotten as a child. She knew that one day she'd have the delight of embarrassing her half to death with that photo album, as her mother had done to her.

Caleb knew that now, and he knew that

his

mother had another card to play if she wanted to — video. He'd gone quite pale when she mentioned that.

Amber tucked an errant strand of blonde hair back behind her ear and heard Caleb's girlfriend Jamie say, "You know I love you," in an attempt to take some of the edge off.

Her son muttered something that Amber couldn't hear, and a moment later, Jamie let out a snort and cracked up again — joined by his friend Del.

Caleb sighed and said, "Yeah, that's my award winning Dad. Going to get the camera first when I'm hanging from a fence post by my ripped underwear."

Amber was a little embarrassed by the fact that even though she'd scolded Caleb's father for that very reason, it was still one of her favorite photos.

The merriment in the front room continued as Amber put the finishing touches on Thanksgiving dinner. She'd been up since four a.m. in order to have the early dinner, so that her son could go to his father's for the afternoon, and then to visit Jamie's family in the evening. As far as she was concerned, it was worth it.

She peeked into the front room and she was happy to see that her son's half smile indicated he wasn't nearly as upset by the photos as he sounded. The smile on Del's face was a welcome one as well. The young man had experienced a lot in his life from what Caleb had told her, and she was glad she could provide a nice holiday for him.

The microwave dinged, and Amber retrieved the final side dish of home canned garden corn. She placed it on the table, took one last look at everything, and then pulled off her apron. She smoothed out her dress and went to announce that dinner was served.

The excited, hungry looks on the three young people's faces made her swell with pride. Jamie looked impressed by the spread and presentation, which was especially gratifying, considering Amber was almost certain she was going to be her daughter-in-law shortly after the two graduated from college.

Amber smiled and gestured toward the turkey at the head of the table. Behind her smile she steeled herself against critiquing her son's carving technique. His father had hacked away at a bird like a Neanderthal, so Caleb didn't have a good example to draw from. Amber had grown up with a father who made a grand production of carving a turkey, and did it with impeccable skill.

She was a fair hand at carving herself, but chose to adhere to tradition.

Caleb and Del both walked to the head of the table, where her son took up the knife and fork with a confidence that caught her off guard. Her mouth dropped open and her eyes went wide when he drew the knife through the meat in a smooth, perfectly executed stroke.

"Now, where did this come from?" she asked once she got over the shock.

Caleb chuckled and used the fork to point at his friend before setting back to work.

"My granddad taught me," Del said.

Caleb then added, "And filmed it the first Thanksgiving he did it himself. I told him he should upload it with a commentary track to save thousands of guys from embarrassing themselves every year."

Del shrugged. "Too many people start with the wings, and you need them to support the breast meat."

"Exactly," Amber said, and let out a chuckle. She turned to Jamie and said, "Well, I can scratch that warning about him off my list, I suppose."

All three of her dinner guests laughed. Caleb then took up a generous slab of breast meat — with only a little fumbling — and placed it on his mother's plate.

"First, best slice always goes to the chef," he said as his friend nodded in approval behind him.

"Thank you, honey," Amber responded.

Jamie received her slice next and offered Caleb a look of grateful adoration that gave Amber the shivers.

Del said, "You got this," and took his seat in a vote of confidence to Caleb.

Her son finished carving the breast meat and placed the slices in an artful, overlapping pattern along the rim of the platter. He then carved the wings and drumsticks with flourishes that weren't perfect, but which she knew would improve with practice.

Amber caught Del's eye and mouthed,

Thank you

. He smiled and nodded.

That was more than enough to feed them all twice over, so Caleb took his seat, and they all dug in. The bird could be stripped down to the bone later.

Smiling faces, good food, and compliments on the latter made it one of the best Thanksgivings Amber had experienced in many years. Her cheeks were aching from smiling by the time everyone had put their flatware down.

"Anyone for dessert?" Amber asked.

Caleb and Del both groaned dramatically and slumped in their chairs. Jamie chuckled and said, "I couldn't eat another bite just yet."

Amber blew out a long breath through pursed lips and said, "Me either." She groaned as she pushed her chair back.

Jamie tugged on Caleb's sleeve as she did the same. "Get up and help your mom."

Caleb whimpered, but slid out of his seat.

"If you want, I can finish up the turkey," Del suggested.

Delighted by the offer, Amber said, "By all means. Thank you."

Jamie volunteered to clean the three slow cookers, which took a significant burden off Amber's shoulders. All she needed to do was tell her son what containers she wanted to use, and he unerringly located them. In addition to the main containers, they were dishing up disposable ones that the three would pick up on the way back to campus.

A not insignificant number of those containers were from previous years' Cool-Whip.

Though their divorce hadn't exactly been pleasant, she made up a plate for Caleb to take to his father as well. Her feelings had mellowed over the years, and the thought of him eating a frozen turkey dinner for Thanksgiving simply didn't sit well with her. He always called to thank her the next day, and their conversation was pleasant more often than not.

Once Del finished with the turkey, he joined the other two in the kitchen. Amber spent as much time carefully stacking everything in the refrigerator as anything, because her three helpers were taking care of business.

Caleb directed Del to the bathroom at one point, and then said, "Don't forget to check out the shower curtain rings."

The young man groaned, rolled his eyes, and shook his head as he headed to the bathroom. Amber stared at her son in confusion.

Jamie punched Caleb in the arm and then explained, "Del's last name is Griffith."

"Caleb," Amber scolded while putting her hands on her hips. With the same name as a main character in the classic Thanksgiving movie, he'd surely endured a great deal of teasing about it.

Her son laughed. "He just acts like it bothers him. He's got this big plastic jug full of the shower curtain rings people leave as pranks. You'll see."

Amber shook her head and sighed — which Jamie echoed — but when Del returned to the kitchen, Caleb asked, "Hey, how was the seat?"

The young man launched into an impression of John Candy and responded, "Was that seat hot or what? I feel like a big Whopper. Turn me over, I'm done on this side."

Amber couldn't help but laugh. He sounded exactly like the character, though he certainly looked

nothing

like him. The fit young man was the polar opposite of the person he was imitating.

She realized she was staring and quickly picked up a container to put away.

Shortly thereafter, the last container found its way into the three dimensional jigsaw puzzle that was her refrigerator. There were still dishes to be washed as far as the eye could see, but that could wait.

"Dessert?" she inquired once more.

"Well, I'm not leaving without a piece of peach cobbler, even if I explode," Caleb said.

Jamie agreed, "Same for me. He goes on and on about how good it is."

"I'm still too full," Del said. "I overdid it on those noodles."

"Mmm!" Jamie remarked, pointing at Del, and then asked. "Is there any chance I can get the recipe for those?"

Amber said, "Of course," and then picked up a knife to cut the cobbler. She served up three dishes, and retrieved the Cool-Whip, which had been steadily sorted to the front of the refrigerator.

Jamie wanted the recipe for the cobbler as soon as she took the first bite.

With the dessert finished, Amber went to her laptop and emailed the recipe cards she'd digitized a couple of years before to her son's girlfriend. They were written in her mother's hand, and she wanted to make sure they would never fade away. The cobbler and noodles were only two of about a dozen recipes she passed along, as Jamie had noticed a few others she wanted while Amber was scrolling through the folder. It boded well for a time when she would be the guest and Jamie would be the host for future Thanksgivings.

Caleb looked at his phone and said, "Oh shit."

Amber responded without hesitation, following the family's running joke, "Fucking language!"

Del and Jamie cracked up at the unexpected exclamation.

Caleb chuckled and said, "We've got to get going, or we'll be late to Dad's."

"Count me out," Del remarked.

Caleb said, "Dad drives him nuts."

Amber smiled and pointed at her son's friend. "I knew there was something I liked about you." She then said, "I'll go get your father's plate."

Del was approaching with the dessert dishes as she left the kitchen, so she thanked him for the help as they passed each other. Her son and his girlfriend already had their coats on, and Caleb checked his phone again. Amber passed the plate to Jamie.

Caleb called out, "We're really running late. We've got to run."

"On my way. Catch you when you get back to campus."

"Later," Caleb called as the couple headed out the door.

Del returned to the front room, and Amber asked, "You're heading back to campus?"

He nodded.

"Well, let me gather up your leftovers then."

Del pointed over his shoulder and asked, "Do you want some help with the washing?"

"Oh, I couldn't ask you to do that," Amber said. "It's just part of hosting. You've already helped enough."

"I don't mind, and I don't have anything else to do."

Her son had told her that Del's grandparents had passed away the year before in October, only a week apart. His father was in jail, and his mother was in rehab for the fifth time. Seeing how depressed Del was upon returning from the holidays that year was what had prompted Caleb to invite his friend over this year. He didn't seem to want to be alone, and she could understand why.

She said, "Well, if you're offering..."

"It's the least I can do. Best meal I've had in a couple of years."

"You know, compliments like that aren't making it any easier for me to put you to work," Amber said as she walked past him and waved for him to follow. She picked up the remote from the counter and asked, "Should I put something on?"

"Planes, Trains, and Automobiles sounds good."

"I have it. It really doesn't bother you, does it?"

He shook his head. "Maybe when I was little, but once I figured out I could do a decent impression of John Candy and get a lot of laughs from it, I decided to just run with it."

"Well, Planes, Trains, and Automobiles it is, then."

Amber navigated with the remote, started the movie, and set to gathering up dishes.

"I'll rinse. Grandma said I never loaded the dishwasher right," Del said as he took the first stack of plates.

"We ladies

can

be a bit particular about that. And thank you again for the help."

"No problem," he said as he sat the plates down and grabbed the sprayer.

Amber retrieved the dishwasher tablets, loaded them, and then picked up the two plates Del had already finished. He'd done a good job — better than her son would have, certainly — so she happily put them in their proper place in the rack.

When she turned to await the next plate, she caught herself admiring the play of the muscles in his arms and beneath his polo shirt.

She quickly turned and gathered up another stack of dishes.

What is wrong with you?

she thought.

He's your son's best friend and half your age. It's positively shameful. Stop it.

She hadn't been on a date in several months, and it had been far longer than that since the last time she had sex. It was obviously beginning to wear on her. She shrugged off a smaller — but still very much present — voice under the one that spoke with her sense of propriety. It was busy whispering how absolutely delicious Del was. He was fit, handsome, and clean-shaven — which was a particular weakness. She'd never been a fan of facial hair.

It was also whispering that there were fresh batteries for her vibrator in the junk drawer.

Amber made a point of directing her attention to the movie whenever she wasn't busy fetching dishes or loading the dishwasher. She was determined to act like a dignified woman. That felt rude, however, so she changed tactics to making small talk.

"I have to thank you for teaching Caleb to carve a turkey. His father absolutely butchered the poor birds, so he didn't know any better."

Del handed over the saucer he'd just finished rinsing. "Granddad said it was the duty of any man who knew how to do it right to teach any man who didn't. He took it pretty seriously."

"My father was the same way. The first time he saw Caleb's father hacking away at a poor defenseless turkey, I thought he was going to keel over from a heart attack. If it wasn't for my mother, he probably would have snatched the knife right out of his hand. She didn't say a word, and I didn't even see her move, but somehow, she told him to let it go. He took a deep breath and started talking to my sister at the opposite end of the table so he wouldn't have to look."

Del shook his head and laughed. "Grandma would have said, 'Good lord, Herbert! Get over there and save that poor turkey!'"

Amber surrendered to her laughter. It was still in her voice when she responded, "I'm sure Mom thought it, but it was my first time hosting Thanksgiving, and I think she was worried about me as much as anything."

"Grandma could do that too. She just didn't very often," Del said. "I heard her tell Granddad once that the only good thing about getting old was that you could say whatever the hell you wanted and just let people think you were going senile."

"My father-in-law used to say that. Our parents got along famously. I don't know how the apple fell so far from the tree with Caleb's father."

Amber was rather proud of herself, because that naughty, whispering voice vanished as they talked and loaded the dishwasher. It made the time pass pleasantly, and soon it was nearly full.

She placed the last couple of pieces of flatware into the rack, and then straightened to close the dishwasher up and start it. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Del quickly look down at the sink he was filling to wash the pots and pans.

Was he looking at my butt?

she wondered while starting up the dishwasher.

Don't be ridiculous.

She tried to shrug it off as her imagination, but then when she bent over to put away a pot she'd just dried, she was certain she caught him looking again. A couple of pots later, she glanced behind her while she was still bent over, and got an even better look. A chill shot through her.

Amber found it difficult to keep up with the conversation as her thoughts raced. While drying the dish for the stuffing, any doubts she had vanished. There was no denying that his eyes were drifting to her cleavage.

Somehow, she kept up appearances, finished drying the dish, and put it away. She then hung up her towel and said, "I'll be right back."

Del nodded and kept working on the dish he was washing. Amber looked at the mirrored picture frame across the room as she headed toward the bathroom and saw Del's eyes fixed on her ass.

By the time she closed the bathroom door, Amber's nipples were uncomfortably stiff. She stepped in front of the mirror and clamped her thighs together when a chilly tingle arose between her legs.

Stop it,

she mouthed to herself in the mirror. She thought,

You are a grown woman, not some horny teenager. Behave yourself.

To say it was easier said than done was the understatement of all understatements. Her heart was beating a mile a minute. Her sex was tingling and aching. Her face was flushed. She wanted to splash water in her face, but knew it would destroy her makeup. Then she thought perhaps that was exactly what she should do — make herself less attractive.

That, of course, was an admission that she was attractive enough to arouse his ardor.

Amber stood in front of the mirror fighting the arousal threatening to overwhelm her. She knew she'd already been gone long enough to make him wonder, but she couldn't risk going back out in the state she was in.

Somehow — by some miracle — she grabbed hold of her emotions and reined them in. Her breathing slowed and she patted a few errant strands of blonde hair to make herself presentable. After one last, deep breath, she headed back to the kitchen.

Del had finished washing and drying the last few dishes. He pointed at them sitting on the counter and said, "I don't know where anything goes."

"Thank you," she said, her voice thankfully sounding perfectly normal. Looking at the muscular young man cracked the shell of propriety she'd built around herself though. She quickly turned to the dishes on the counter.

Don't look,

she admonished herself as she put the first dish away, and somehow she refrained. She still thought she could feel his eyes on her, but at least she wasn't confirming it.

Upon putting away the last dish and closing the cupboard door, she turned back toward him. He was leaning against the kitchen counter, looking her way, and smiling. The pose practically screamed of strong, young virility.

Latching onto the first coherent thought within the morass of shame, arousal, and lingering doubts in her head, she opened the refrigerator, retrieved the Cool-Whip and asked, "Ready for some dessert?"

His eyes lit up, and his smile changed to a sly, crooked one. "I could eat something," he answered with barely disguised suggestion.

Time seemed to grind almost to a halt as her body screamed with need. The desire in his eyes paralyzed her. He pushed off the counter and stepped toward her in slow motion. The tub of Cool-Whip tumbled from her nerveless fingers. She watched him raise his hand — felt it on her cheek. He leaned in.

Amber kissed him with hungry desperation as time resumed its inevitable march. Their tongues wrestled as their hands explored each other's backs. One of his hands slid along her side, and then up to her breast.

A wave of fear cut through her arousal like a knife. Amber gasped and pulled away. "We can't," she said in a tight, squeaky voice.

Del winced, took a step back, and put his hands behind his back. "Sorry. I thought... Well..."

"You need to go. You really need to go," she said even as something inside her shrieked in protest.

"Yeah. Sorry. I'll get out of here," he said.

One hand slipped from behind his back and Amber's eyes alighted upon it of their own accord. Those eyes then widened when she beheld the size of the bulge in his jeans that he was adjusting. All her fear and shame evaporated in the fires of lust.